


inside an ocean of night

by jmerrickism



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Slow Burn, jess' thoughts definitely aren't kid friendly, not jj s2 compliant, picks up after the Defenders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-27 15:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14428347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmerrickism/pseuds/jmerrickism
Summary: He was buried under literal rubble, she was buried under the metaphorical kind. They both had to drag each other out of it, eventually.Or: vignettes with Matt Murdock, and Jessica Jones as they heal.





	1. AKA the trouble with Jess

  1. _still waiting for him_



 

Despite what she let most people believe, she was _not_ okay. Of course certain, select, people had been allowed to see underneath the mask she carefully constructed. Which was hilarious in its own way because that mask was what she wanted everyone to think: that she didn’t care, and screw you for thinking that you had a right to judge her.

It was the only way she could function without having to deal with the mess that life continually dropped into her lap. Trish, as much as she _just didn’t go there_ , understood. They had been through too much together for her not too. As much as she tried to push, and prod, and meddle she knew when Jess had reached her limit. It was how she showed she cared. It was how Jess let her know that she appreciated that she cared.

Trish had been caring much more lately, after finally realizing that something _more_ had happened at Midland. Something else that Jess wasn’t fully letting onto. Luke had stumbled his way upon her,  after the incident when she had broken down at the random bar she had walked into. She had only chosen it at random, needing to hide from the world in that moment.

Both of them knew that Matt had stayed down in the pit. A body had never been recovered, and the case was currently working its way through the legal system to declare him...well. Nobody associated with them was willing to push the legal paperwork through. Hogarth may have made every charge against them disappear into the ether (it was like the ‘event’ had never happened), but she had left Matt’s situation up to Foggy. The closest thing Matt had to a family had no intention of pushing the case, at all.

Jessica was fine with that, as if it wasn’t settled then she was not going to have to deal with the emotional fall out that acknowledging the death of Matthew Murdock was going to have. Her conversation with Luke was important, as it had allowed her to move forward from the guilt that had been plaguing her for _that_ incident. Unfortunately it had allowed her to move on to the next stage of her guilt.

That of the man who would have listened to her if she had just insisted.

She had run into Karen Page a few days previously. The woman had wanted to talk to her, but Jess had done everything possible to avoid it. After a block of doing her best to avoid the distraught woman she had finally just let the conversation happen under the pretext of standing in line for a coffee.

“Can I help you Page,” she asked, dropping some bills on the counter and grabbing her coffee.

“Did you know he was going to,” the woman trailed off, placing her order and waiting for it. The entire time Jess stood there, knowing that this conversation had to happen. It was the same one that she had been having in her head for the last week. Finally Karen’s coffee arrived at the pair stepped out of the bodega.

“Did I know what,” Jess prompted as they started to walk. She was not going to have this conversation sitting down. She had places to be, besides.

“Did you know he was going to stay,” Karen asks, easily falling into step with Jess. She had to admit, becoming a journalist was a good avenue for her. If Jess was any less of a person she would feel slightly intimidated.

Jess stayed silent for a full block. Letting the question rock back and forth in her brain. Finally, the question dropped into the center of it not caring for the damage that it caused. If that was the way it was going to be, then fine.

“The bastard pretended he would find a way,” she bit out, before draining the rest of her coffee, “So, no, Page I didn’t know he was going to stay. I’ve been waiting for him to climb out of the hole ever since it collapsed on him.”

She threw the cup into a trashcan, noting with a detached satisfaction that it caused the rest of the garbage to slightly billow up. No, she wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. Not even close, and fuck you Page for making it a thing.

She stopped, and looked at the woman who just looked...broken. She knew that at one point she meant something to Murdock, and that whatever had happened had broken the man’s heart. Hers too. Whatever, she wasn’t a therapist.

“Anything else?”

There wasn’t. 

So no, Jess was not dealing with Matt Murdock’s apparent death well.

  


  1. _greeks bearing gifts_



 

It’s three weeks after speaking with Page that she gets the sense that something is wrong. She had long ago given up the sense of feeling safe in her own apartment, content in the chaos that at least she knew it was chaos. Plus, she was highly unbreakable. She could deal, and the rent was fairly cheap.

From this she had learned when to anticipate little clues that her apartment was not safe. If it was while she was sitting in it the danger was walking up the stairs, or if it was waiting for him when she herself did. It wasn’t exactly self-preservation. It was more letting her mental state adjust to what was needed.

This is just an extremely long way of saying that when she reached the block her building was on she felt it. The tingling in the base of her spine that let her know that something was up. The way the people moved was different, the air tilted. The world may not exactly know something was about to happen, but it had adjusted all the same.

Well, if whatever it was had decided to wait peacefully in her office she might as well go see what the fuss was about.

Walking up the stairs she mentally notes that Malcolm had, in fact, informed her that he wasn’t going to be present today. She had laughed in his face, letting her know that she was not in fact his keeper. Now she was thankful that her...partner in crime? Assistant? Her Malcolm? Had decided not to be there. He was disgustingly breakable, and she already had enough guilt on her plate about him.

When she got to her floor she noticed that not only was her door wide open, but that the person sitting in the chair in the center of the room was supposed to be dead. Deader than dead. As dead as Matt Murdock.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” Jess grinds out, walking into the office and closing her door, “Seeing you’re supposed to be dead.”

“That’s the trouble of not finding bodies,” Elektra Natchios states, her legs still crossed underneath the stylish dress she was wearing. It appeared she had not, in fact, come to Jess for a fight.

“What are you doing here,” Jess replied, walking to the other side of her desk. Her side. The one that let everybody know that she was in control. For she was, obviously. She hadn’t hauled off and clocked Matt’s ninja ex had she?

“First I came to apologize,” the assassin stated, her hands folding in her lap, “It has been difficult in remembering who I am. I am sorry that you got dragged into what should have been a personal matter.”

“Of you attempting to kill most of the people in the city,” Jess stated, bluntly, looking for any of the words to bounce off of the woman. None did, in fact it appeared none of them even penetrated.

“It happens,” Elektra replied, a smile coming onto her face, “Obviously, you don’t care. What you _do_ care about is a bit more personal to you, and plainly written on your face.”

In that moment Jess realized what a poisonous smile was, and also how this woman had so easily wrapped Matt around her finger.

“You’re wondering, if I am alive, what about Matthew?”

The words pounded into Jess’ skull. 

“You better answer that question right now,” Jess ground out, low and cold. Mentally she did her best (Birch Street) to remind herself that Elektra could easily (Higgins Drive) destroy her in a fight (Cobalt Lane). It was barely holding.

“Of course, this is my apology to you,” Elektra stated, standing up, “Matthew is in the one place he could be safest right now. If you look hard enough, you’ll find it. You’re the only one that I trust can.”

She started to let herself out of the office before stopping and turning around.

“For what it’s worth, he’s worth it.”

“Worth what,” Jess asked, her voice practically draining of the little emotion she had left.

“All of this,” Elektra stated, waving her hand around. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but she stopped herself and continued walking out.

Jess barely registered the click of her door as she pulled her computer out. Matt was alive. It was time to find him.


	2. the trouble with Matt

  1. _sisyphus at the foot of the mountain_



 

The easiest way to describe his current condition, clinically, was that the amount of pain he was in was catastrophic. He had been stabbed, burned, shot, dragged with chains, fallen off of buildings, broken bones, detached muscle, and more. He had had his heart broken, broken other’s hearts, disappointed friends and coworkers and mentors and others, and made decisions that only would bring the level of pain in the world higher.

None of those moments compared to the condition that he currently was in.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying in this bed, but the simple task of opening his eyes brought him back. All the way back to when he first lost his vision. Every sense, feeling, breath, and twist and turn was an explosion. When he did open his eyes he immediately looked for the switch he had long ago perfected to dull every sensation. The one that let him exist without the overwhelming essence of being. 

The difficulty was that he couldn’t find it, and had to allow his senses to be battered into exhaustion before he could slip back into oblivion. He began to realize this cycle after an untold amount of periods. He hadn’t been able to keep track, but his brain eventually started to push forward  _ This Isn’t the First Time _ as he struggled with the pain of existence. 

Being constantly in and out of nothing, being born again and again and again into a world of pain. Every second being alive was a struggle, a fight to get to the next second. It was exhausting. He couldn’t place why he even struggled, as he knew the second he allowed himself to experience his next second of life it was going to explode over him. Life, it turned out over and over before he slipped back to nothing, was a mistake in his current condition.

That thought had weighed on his mind for a few cycles. Why was he struggling? Why did he keep seeking to wake up, even though he knew that doing so would bring him pain? 

As he breathed in, forcing his mind to look through the pain that was stabbing him from the inside, he realized he had reached the fundamental question that philosophers had been trying to answer for years. 

He then did something that he hadn’t expected. Certainly something that the people besides his bed hadn’t been expecting based on their reactions.

He laughed.

And then he slept.

  
  


  1. _Job 5:18_



 

It had been a strange night when the strange woman had appeared on their doorstep, cradling a man in her arms. It had been even stranger when the womn had called her by a name that she had not answered to in a lifetime. The other nuns had been perplexed when she had accepted the demand for sanctuary from the woman.

Except it wasn’t for the woman. It was for the man that she was carrying. The woman had neither wanted, or needed, the care of the nuns. She had in fact been quite rude about it. Her only concern had been for the nameless man.

Every other nun had wanted them thrown out immediately, sanctuary wasn’t their strict perogative anymore. She had taken one look at the man, though, and knew that He was testing her in this moment. All of her sins had been delivered back to her doorstep and He wanted her to atone for them.

After all, a lifetime of service was only the prologue to the true test of devotion.

She dismissed the other nuns, telling them to prepare a bedroom chamber for their guest. As Mother Superior they obeyed. Alone, she regarded the woman.

“Why have you brought Matthew here,” she questioned, looking straight into the woman’s eyes. After a moment the woman intentionally broke the contact, closing them while turning her head.

“Contrary to his appearance he does not need medical assistance,” the slightly accented notes rolled off the woman’s tongue, “My people were gracious enough to ensure that his body would heel.”

“You are worried about his mind then,” Mother Superior stated.

“You know what your son is Sister Maggie,” the woman replied, “I fear not for his mind. I fear for his soul.”

“You have experience then, with a soul in turmoil,” Maggie again stated. She knew, from years of experience, what to do with young women who were seeking answers from others instead of the place they should have been getting them.

“He would prefer that I be the one who gives him solace,” the woman replied, a small well of tears appearing before she hastily wiped them away, “I am not, and can not be that person. I will only ever bring him pain.”

Maggie looked at the woman sharply. Those words had been very carefully chosen.

“I ask that you consider which words that you’re using,” she stated, as the other woman gained a small smirk, “I may have committed a great many sins in the past, but I watched the sins you committed on him Elektra Natchios.”

“Then you know why I brought him here,” Elektra stated, standing up, “My people have healed his worst injuries from the building collapse. Everything else will heal on its own.”

“Why here,” Maggie again asked, standing to meet the woman.

“It is the only place where I knew he could be safe from anybody that meant him harm,” Elektra replied, “Nobody knows your connection to him. I only do because I watched as you followed me all of those years.”

“We will heal him,” Maggie stated, as Elektra bowed her head. As she walked out Maggie noticed that she had left a piece of paper on the chair she had been sitting in. It was a statement of all of what Matthew’s injuries had been, and what had been healed. There was also instructions to obtain a financial donation from an anonymous bank account. Maggie put the paper in her pocket, and walked over to observe the son she had walked away from.

The next weeks were difficult. As their nurse had confirmed that majority of Matthew’s injuries were healed. He still had multiple traumas to overcome, but the most difficult aspects would not trouble him. Yes, he had minor broken bones, and deep cuts. It was all superficial.

It was his mind, the one that would not allow itself peace that was going to be the trouble. She had been following him, keeping tabs on him. She  _ knew _ who he was. What he did. She had watched his life from a far, not wanting to interfere as he shouldered a great amount of pain and duty. Sometimes when it wasn’t needed.

It was time for him to heal. 

Perhaps, it was also time for her to allow herself to be healed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain. One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself, forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” ― Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus
> 
> "For he wounds, but he binds up;  
>  he strikes, but his hands give healing." ― Job 5:18


	3. AKA I found it in a rain cloud

  1. _working in a submarine_



 

The bar wasn’t one where she would normally be found. In fact it was far, far away from where she usually haunted. The patrons and the man behind the bar hadn’t even looked at her funny when she walked it. It was like they didn’t know who she was.

Which was perfect, and one of the weirdest things about New York. She was in the same borough and yet these people didn’t even know her. Her face had been plastered all over the news for days, and here she was just another faceless person in a dingy bar. It was one of the few reasons she hadn’t left after...everything happened. In New York it was still possible to become anonymous.

Malcolm had made a joke to her once about how “the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen micromanaged the shit out of 10 blocks in Manhattan.” In New York? That was impressive, especially if you didn’t actually have powers. Murdock didn’t, he was just an abnormal person with a stunning lack of common sense, a high threshold for pain, and something weird with how his senses reacted to being totally blind.

Yeah, she had looked him up. Spent time with him too.

Her second beer arrived as she pondered what she had spent the last two days tracking down. Malcolm had laughed when she said she needed to scope out a nunnery. Was that what they called them? A nunnery? A monastery? A nun house? Either way, whatever the hell they called them she had been watching one for most of the afternoon.

Why?

Because Matthew Fucking Murdock was the strangest person in existence. Holy  _ shit _ when the connection had been made it was the shock of a lifetime. Jess almost had to hand it to him. He really picked his exes well, and his crazy ninja ex-girlfriend had dumped him in the perfect spot.

The trail to figuring out where Matt was had been fairly simple, but it was something that was easy to miss. Unless you had been told that the trail existed. It was like when you walked the same path home every day, and you never noticed that you could have turned and gone down another road. It just never occurred to you why you should.

Where was the safest place that Matt could be? That was simple: somewhere that didn’t exist. With some _ one _ that didn’t exist. If someone doesn’t exist, how can they be tracked down? Why had Elektra told this to a PI? Because she knew that Jessica was used to making connections that others wouldn’t think of.

Who didn’t exist? Who was somebody that nobody knew existed?

Matt’s mother, gone since Matt was a child.

Where had she gone? She hadn’t been seen or heard of in almost  _ three  _ decades.

That was actually fairly simple for a PI to figure out.  _ Nobody _ ever disappeared, least of all poor women from Hell’s Kitchen. Maggie Murdock hadn’t disappeared, nobody had just gone looking for her. With nobody looking for her, most assumed she didn’t exist.

If she didn’t exist she could create a new life. That life?

Oh, just Mother Superior for an order of nuns dedicated towards medical healing. 

Jess slammed the rest of her beer back remembering when that bit of information had materialised in her lap. Christ - and fuck you Murdock for at all influencing her so that she felt a minor pang of guilt over the blasphemy - that had been a shock to figure out. She declined another beer, instead opting to nurse the remainder of her current one.

Elektra had picked her for a reason. That was easy enough, she was the only one that would make the connection to Sister Maggie. At least the only one that would keep Matt safe. That of course led to more questions. Namely, that she needed to talk to somebody about this, right?

More than her needed to know Matt was alive. Danny was watching over Hell’s Kitchen for him, along with Luke. In addition to their own responsibilities. Foggy Nelson was the closest thing Matt had to a family (well, not anymore with Sister Mommy Dearest back from the ether!), and the last time she had seen the man it was obvious his spirit had been limping. Hell, even Karen Page would love to know that her...ex-boyfriend was alive.

“Hey guys, great news,” she pictured herself saying to an assembled group of Those Touched By Matt Murdock, “Not only is Matt’s crazy ninja ex alive, but so is he! Wait, it gets better! He’s being held at a nunnery uptown which, get this, is run by his long forgotten mother!”

She scoffed at that image. It was just too crazy. The only reason she hadn’t immediately ran to them was because of what Elektra had said. He needed to be safe. Elektra could have told  _ any _ of them. She had to have known Foggy. It was impossible to think of Nelson without Murdock. Danny had all the money in the world, he could have easily taken care of him. Hell, even Luke could have protected him. 

Elektra had said he needed safety. The implication was that he needed to be alone. All of the others would not only swarm onto him like locusts, but bring a swarm onto him in its own right. The entirety of New York was currently sitting on a delicate balance.

Danny watched over Hell’s Kitchen, in addition to funding the police where gaps had opened over the years. Luke helped take out the trash that tried to slip through the cracks. The city had grown quiet, almost as if it was in morning for a man it didn’t know existed. A man who actually hadn’t died.

A man that needed time to heal from everything that had happened in his life.

Elektra had come to her for a reason.

She ordered another beer, but no sooner had it arrived than she had come to a decision on her next move. Jess paid for her drinks, and finished the beer as quickly as it had been delivered.

It was time to visit Mother Superior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was a direct reference to the meme about the scope of every super hero.


	4. the experience of awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt finally recovers into the land of the living, and Maggie ponders what has brought everybody here.

  1. _the biggest asshole on the planet_



 

It’s hard to explain what ‘waking up’ is to somebody that can actually see. Some describe it as if they are coming out of a coma, a rebirth, or even an awareness of greater sensation. Most associate, at the very least, the concept of their eyes opening to the world around them. Most metaphors are associated with this experience because that is what ties people together.

When you lack sight, however, ‘opening your eyes’ accomplishes an entirety of nothing. Instead what he does is realise that his senses are pulling him into the land of the living. To Matt Murdock waking up is becoming aware that he has control over his limbs. Waking up is searching for clues to his location. Waking up is processing the position of his body relative to the rest of the world. Waking up was about tying himself down to something real, as he couldn’t see what was.

Waking up, in a very real sense, was finding himself every single time.

What made this sensation different. Every time he had woken up for countless cycles now, not knowing what was day and what was night, had been a burden. His body was in pain. His mind was alight in trying to deal with all the signals that it was processing. He couldn’t orientate himself because he did not recognise where he was. How he was. What he was.

Eventually this uncertainty became the only way he could tether himself to the sensation of  _ being awake _ . When he wasn’t awake he didn’t feel the enormity of living breaking him apart. When he was awake he received a very real, very crystallised reminder that to exist was to be in pain. 

It took a second, but he realised as he awoke this time that there was more to his existence than pain. He had sense, he had the ability to reach out beyond just himself to figure out where he was tethered to reality. He can reach out from more than just himself, and actually figure out where he was.

The first thing that he grabbed onto was that everything, in a way, was familiar. As if reaching out from a long forgotten time in his life he felt like he was surrounded by somewhere he had been before. Filing this sensation away, for it was probably the reason his senses were okay with his subconscious shutting down as it felt safe, he reached out for more answers.

Where the hell is he? 

It’s like a hospital (he knows those smells) but it isn’t. He can feel the motion of nurses...more than nurses moving around him. They’re more than nurses, they have a familiarity that he wouldn’t associate with a nurse, but wouldn’t associate strictly with another figure. They’re existing as an addition. 

Everything is clean, everything is familiar. It is reminding him of too much.

One of his dangers of being awake was that if he wasn’t prepared his senses would become overwhelmed. That was what his body had been dealing with the last many cycles between being awake and not. There was too much information, it couldn’t be processed quickly enough. It was better to shut down, retreat, regroup before damage could be done.

Right as he was about to he picked up on something different. It cut through all of the familiarity but not that he was bathed in. It was different enough that his brain, his senses latched onto it.

It was familiar in its own way. He had only known it for a brief time, but it was unmistakable. He opened his eyes, physically this time as he let his sense finally wash out onto the world around him.

He felt the person walk closer to the bed that he was lying in, their steps echoing and proving him a map of who they were, and where he was.

He heard their small intake of breath before they opened their mouth to speak.

“You’re the biggest asshole on the planet, you know that right?”

“Jessica Jones,” he tries to say, but his voice comes out as more of a rasp. It’s apparently been a while since he used it. His laugh becomes a cough as the nurses instantly swoop to his side. Liquid is introduced into his throat to parch the dryness that is starting to swell into his mouth.

He follows her heartbeat as it sits down in a chair besides him. He tentatively moves to grab her hand because this is real. This is reality. This is being alive and he needs to tie himself down to it. With an equally tentative motion she meets him halfway, calmly holding onto his hand as her pulse skyrockets.

Yet it’s there. It’s real.

After the activity around him calms down he feels himself starting to slip away again. He wants to talk, he wants to say something. He doesn’t want to be left alone-

“Just relax Murdock, you’re safe here,” the words come out as a long suffering sigh, yet one that is almost glad they’re saying them.

He believes her. He can feel her heartbeat. He lets the world go dark again.

  
  


  1. _1 Peter 4:8_



 

Sister Maggie watched as Jessica Jones slept in the uncomfortable chair that was next to Matthew’s bed. All of the chairs in the ward were uncomfortable. They were designed that way. It was to discourage people from sitting in them when there was work that needed to be done. Such was the life of someone who had taken a vow of service.

Yet Jessica Jones sat in the chair, sleeping, her hand still in Matthew’s grasp countless hours later. She would have made to move to young woman except for how peaceful Matthew was at the moment. It was the calmest he had been, the most restful sleep her had experienced since he had been brought to Maggie’s care.

She hadn’t actually spoken to Jessica Jones when she had appeared at the door. She had, in fact, been expecting one of them to arrive. She had simply nodded her head, and motioned for her to follow. They both knew why she was here, It was to see her son.

Jessica had immediately stilled in the doorway, not quite all the way in but not outside of it either. Maggie had left her there, and dispatched one of her sisters to explain to Jessica what was going on. 

Matthew was healing.

It would take time for him to completely heal.

He was safe.

She walked away from the hospital ward towards her office. Inside she kept one of the few amenities of creature comforts that this order allowed. Well, it might not exactly allow it, but it didn’t completely disavow it. The fact that it had been a gift from Father Latham assuage her conscious.

Apparently everyone could use a decent cup of espresso, no matter their vows.

As she prepared the drink she let her thoughts wander where they must. Why had she so easily let Jessica Jones in to see her son? Why had she expected her? If the intention was to keep Matthew safe than the fewer people from the outside that knew of his location the better.

Yet, almost instantly, she could explain the reasons why. They were logical. Jessica Jones had obviously been guided here, possibly from the person that had left her son in her care. She had worked with her son before, and from all observations they had formed a close bond in a very short amount of time. Close enough that multiple paparazzi photos had shown them walking “arm in arm” down the road.

While most wouldn’t have recognised such a gesture, she knew what it meant from a lifetime of watching her son. Jessica was okay with letting Matt use her as a prop for her blindness. They had already formed a bond, a connection. Something that let the other in where they kept others out.

Jessica also had powers. Great powers, if a bit misguided and unfocused. She could keep him safe. She knew people that could keep him safe. Maggie could, with the poor dear in her care and guidance, help Jessica find the focus within herself that she was lacking.

That was the closest to the real reason. The one that all the other more logical ones were covering up. She finished preparing the small cup of espresso and allowed herself to sit at her desk. The chair was designed for work, not comfort. She had gotten used to its hardness, and allowed her body to be moulded by it as she relaxed into it.

The look on Jessica Jones’ face when she had opened the door was like she had been looking into a mirror. She knew that look. It was the face of a child who was lost, who was hurt, who wanted to crawl out of the hole they had dug themselves. She knew that look so well because it was the one that had led her here.

She set the drink down and picked up the paperwork that needed to be completed. After all, if Jessica Jones was to be a regular fixture in the ward, she would need an official role.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins.” - 1 Peter 4:8


	5. AKA what would Maggie do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica and New York City have an agreement. Shockingly talking to Trish is covered by this.

  1. _what they say about blood_



 

New York City seemed to have an agreement with Jessica Jones. Jessica didn’t want to be noticed. New York City didn’t want what came from when Jessica was noticed. Thus the agreement: New York City would ignore that Jessica existed.

Jessica usually helps New York City in this endeavour by doing her best to meld into the crowd. When she rode the subway she kept to herself. When she walked through the streets she moved through the crowds and shadows. Standing out was what brought trouble. Since Jessica was a Private Investigator, New York City tended to notice when she made herself noticed.

Which made today peculiar. Jessica usually kept up her end of the contract with New York City by melding through the crowds. Today as she exited the subway, instead of quietly shuffling through the crowd to be one of the nameless faceless, she was on her cell phone. In fact, it looked like she didn’t care that people noticed she was on the phone.

The beauty of this, however, was that so many other people were doing the same that she blended in all the same. New York City was keeping its end of the bargain.

“Hey Trish, sorry just out of the station,” Jessica was saying into the phone, her eyes rolling through the crowd, “There was a delay at 145th. I almost got off just to be off of that rolling nightmare.”

As Jess was walking she got a few looks of recognition as she came closer to the Kitchen. It came from living in the neighborhood for a few years now, and the fact that she had been in the news once or twice. People knew her, and they also understood the contract.

“No, he’s not being released from the hospital yet,” she replied to a question Trish had asked her, “He’s in...well. He’s in a certain kind of long term care.”

She waited for the traffic to clear up before quickly walking across the street.

“Yes, I’ve talked to his mother a few times now,” Jess stated, nodding in recognition at an old client she had helped out of a jam with a slumlord, “She’s more helpful than I would have thought.”

After a pause, presumably because Trish was saying something, she continued, “No, really. Like I don’t believe in any of that stuff but she doesn’t care. She just wants to help.”

She sighed at something Trish was saying, mouthing ‘hello’ to a child that was playing on the sidewalk, “No, Trish, I’m not becoming religious. It’s just, well, it’s just part of him. Part of them. They don’t need me to be a part of it.”

She listens to Trish ramble for a moment as she got closer to her building. Eventually something that Trish says makes her smile. Those that knew Jess would have noticed that it wasn’t a smile mixed with pain, or hesitance. It was an easy one.

“Yes, this is the longest we’ve talked on the phone in years,” she paused, “Don’t make a thing about it.”

At this point Jess’ foot started to tap. She had reached her building, but didn’t want to go in until she had finished the conversation with Trish apparently.

“When is he being released?”

She looked around, as if making sure that New York City hadn’t been looking back at it. After a second, she determined her words.

“According to his mom it’s when he has accepted all the sins he has committed,” Jess stated, the roll of her eyes bleeding into her voice. She laughed at something Trish said.

“Yeah, Maggie agrees with me that he’s a bit dramatic,” Jess stated, before closing her eyes for a second. It looked like she was summoning her courage before continuing, “Listen Trish, I need to go. I love you. Don’t make a thing about this.”

Jess hung up the phone with a smirk on her face. She said hello to one of her neighbours as she walked into her building.

New York City, and Jessica, continued to have their bargain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is blood thicker than water? Or are the bonds formed willingly more important? Why not both?


	6. Jumped the gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has a visitor.

  1. _that’s what you get for caring_



 

Waking up, not in pain, is something that he is never going to take for granted. Ever again. Just feeling his body slowly cross over into the land of the living he anticipates the wave of sensation that has been accompanying him shortly after waking up. Yet, this time, it doesn’t.

Nothing pulls at him except a normal world around him. He can hear and sense the young nun - something he had finally figured out the other day - milling around him on her orderly duties. He can feel the warmth from the sun. Everything is normal. He lets out a breath that pulls at his sense. It was like releasing a millstone that had gained residence in his chest.

He’s actually rested. More so than he has been in ages. More so than he had when he first covered his face and started chasing after criminals. His mind, instead of searching for the next step and the next motion and the next carry through instead was focused.

“How long was I out?” he asks the nun who stops her cleaning duties. He senses her turning towards him and picking up a chart that is next to his bed. He briefly senses another outside of the room, but filters their presence out to concentrate on the young woman in the room with him.

“You last went to sleep at this time...yesterday,” she says, surprise entering her voice, “Congratulations, you slept for an entire day.”

He smiles at her, and notes that her pulse races for a second before resettling. She sets about changing the bandages which had been covering his torso as he realises that even the pains in his body aren’t pulling at him. 

The nun leaves him a new set of clothes, before exiting to give him privacy. After a moment he allows his sense to wash back out. The presence outside of the room crystallises. It’s the Mother Superior. He has sensed her a few times, but this is the first that he has been able to fully allow himself to acknowledge her.

He gingerly pulls the new set of pants on, before realising that outside of some minor stiffness his body was not fighting him. They were stiff, pricking at this skin. Wool. Rough. Not made for his senses. Importantly, however, he can ignore the sensation.

“I’m decent, Your Reverence,” he says out loud. He hears the woman give a small chuckle as she enters the room proper. Now that he is able to focus his full attention on her he once again picks up a feeling of familiarity. It has come to him every time he has sensed her, and yet even with his full attention he can’t quite pinpoint why.

“Please stay seated,” she states as he intends to stand at her entrance, “You are here to heal.”

“How are you feeling today Matthew?”

“Rested,” he responds after a moment. It was the truest manner in which he can address his current situation, “The first time I can remember feeling like a full person in ages.”

“Good, you were in quite a state when you entered,” the Mother Superior replies, “When you are feeling up to it we can speak more on your recovery.”

“How should I address you Mother Superior?” Matt asks in return, feeling unusually vulnerable after a moment of silence. 

“You may call me Maggie, Matthew,” she replies after a moment, “Your secret, also, is safe with me and the order.”

“My secret?” he asks, sceptically. 

“Yes, the one whose name should bar you from being allowed in here,” she says, a smile creeping into her voice.

“Ah,” he answered, sheepishly, “I am grateful, Your Reverence.”

In his mind, he categories this as equal to the seal of confession. He can tell easily that Mother Maggie has a different reason for her silence on the matter. It’s not something that he is willing to push at the moment, however. Not after the care and grace that has been shown to him.

“One of the sisters will be back in a bit to give you a check up,” she states, breaking the silence, “There is also another matter. Your friend, Miss Jones, has left a note for you. I’m afraid you just missed her daily pilgrimage.”

“Jessica left a note,” Matt stated in return, somewhat hesitantly.

“Yes,” Mother Maggie said, almost with a measure of hesitation, “It’s not in braille. Would you prefer for me to read it to you?”

He has to stop himself from chuckling out loud. Jess probably intended for this to happen.

“If you would not mind, Mother Maggie.”

He feels her heart skip for a quick beat before she clamps down on it. Interesting. He hears the letter being produced and unfolded.

“Miss Jones writes that she is glad you are finally getting restful sleep,” Maggie begins, “It has been hard watching you in pain, even if it has been healing you.”

She paused, lowering the letter briefly, “She scribbled a large section out. Picking up where she continued she says that she doesn’t know why she cares, just that she does.”

She pauses again, but this time Matt can hear her sigh in slight annoyance, “Editing the young woman’s words for appropriateness she says she is upset with you for making her care so much. The two of you work well together, and once again she is mad that you disrupted her ability to not care.”

“She then states that I have given her permission to bring another visitor with her tomorrow, which I did,” Maggie continues, “She signs off by saying that the sky is not allowed to stay stormy forever. Do you know what that means?”

Matt does, instantly.

“It means that it’s going to be Foggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can imagine that the language Jess used was colourful, to say the least.


	7. AKA angry weather patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jess learns that she's not the only one blaming themselves for what ended up down in the rubble.

  1. _it’s not just a weather pattern_



 

Strumming her fingers on her jeans isn’t the best way to show that one isn’t nervous. Jess isn’t nervous, really. The feeling that she has going through her system isn’t like when her parents got called into school because she accidentally pushed Bobby Eaton into a pond on a field trip. It was closer to inviting the principal into your own home for dinner, knowing that they would find evidence of the detention you skipped.

It also isn’t helped when said principal is himself acting like they know you skipped the detention. Then egged their house. Then let their cat get away.

She shook her head at the mental image. Matt Murdock was  _ many _ things, but he wasn’t a cat. Even if he pretended to be as graceful as one.

Apparently finding humour in her own mind annoyed the principal - who in this case was being played by one Franklin Nelson. Foggy to his friends. An offer that she noticed he had specifically not granted to her.

She had called up Foggy a few days previous to set an appointment. She needed to bring him out to a location to ‘get his legal opinion.’ As he was officially on ‘Jessica duty’ she assumed his annoyance was because of the high priced clients she had pulled him away from. He had been overly polite on the phone, which was lawyer for, “ _ I hate you for making my life difficult _ .”

She could has also guessed that wasn’t really subtext by the waves of barely repressed anger that were rolling off of him. Really, how had this man done such a great job with Frank Castle if he wore his heart so firmly on his sleeve?

She more stops fly by, people coming and going out of the car. Finally she can’t take it anymore.

“Okay dude, I don’t know what the issue is,” she says, turning towards him, “But what is going on? I can practically feel your pissed mist leaking all over me.”

Foggy just glares. For an entire length of time between stops. Okay, fine, whatever. She shrugs her shoulders and leans back into the seat. She could feel the agitation slowly rolling off of his finely tailored suit. She has never given him a reason to be mad at her? Had she?

Oh, wait. There was probably a big reason.

“You blame me for Matt,” she stated out into the air. As a fact. Which was fine. She had been pretty heavy on blaming herself for his, well, ‘death’ too.

“I want to, I want to so bad,” he replies, shocking her. She had not been expecting him to say anything. She had been expecting him to just stay silent the entire trip.

“Really, then what’s with the, you know,” she waved her hand at him.

“I want to tell you that I hate you for bringing him with you,” he says instead of responding, “But I can’t. Can I? Nobody could make Matt do a thing that he didn’t want to do in the first place. Having to say this out loud? Yeah. I realise that you weren’t to blame for what happened. Once he got his mind set on something, that was it.”

“You need to be mad at someone though, and you can’t be mad at him,” she replied, pushing a laughing man in a purple suit out of her thoughts as hard as she could.

When Foggy looks at her slightly startled she shrugged. 

“Listen, I’ve been there. Still am there,” she stated, “I only knew him for a few days, not like you. When he got buried in there? He took a small piece of me as well. I can’t imagine you’re doing much better.”

“God, I feel terrible,” Foggy answered, looking down at the ground, “I’ve been so focused in trying to stay mad at you, and Cage, and Rand that I forgot you were with him. Like I know you were, but I didn’t stop to think  _ you were with him _ .”

Shockingly, she gets what he’s trying to say.

“I want to blame all of you for...it,” he says, looking up at her, “But I can’t. It was Matt. It was always Matt.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I dragged him into it,” she replied, “I was sort of his client.”

Foggy laughed, causing Jess to give him a strange look.

“If that’s the game we’re playing then it was my fault,” he said, giving her an amused look, “I was the one that sent him to you.”

“Ah,” she replied. After a few moments of considering the apologetic look on his face she said, “I wonder if Matt knew he has that ability.”

“What ability?” Foggy asked, missing her slip.

“To randomly cause circles of people to form in his wake, you know,” she said, “Luke and Claire. You and I now.”

Foggy laughed. It sounded like it was a laugh he had been holding in for ages.

“People gave Matt way too much credit, he always wanted people to understand how lucky he was,” he stated, “Maybe we should have listened to him more.”

He stuck his hand out.

“Foggy.”

She just stared at it.

“Jess, and I don’t do things like that,” she replied, causing him to lower his hand with a small chuckle.

“This is our stop,” Jess stated after a moment, having memorized the route over the last few weeks. They exited the train and started walking. Foggy looking around in minor confusion, trying to figure out why they had gone so far uptown. Jess just making sure they weren’t being followed. After a few blocks Foggy finally found his voice again.

“So what did you need me out here for, legally speaking,” he asked. She simply slowly came to a stop before gesturing at the building they were in front of.

“Why are we at a nunnery?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally there was a crazy person singing a song across from them, but I couldn't make it work. So if you want, you can pretend he was there anyways. It was the soundtrack to Cats.


End file.
